


Autumn Adventure

by Gaaladrieel



Series: Love And Adventures Through The Seasons [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Established Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Established Relationship, Fluff, Like Lots, M/M, Shire AU, adorable husbands on an adventure, bagginshield
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 05:53:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8238275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaaladrieel/pseuds/Gaaladrieel
Summary: It's been five years since they reclaimed Erebor, and three since they left the mountain to go back to the Shire. Autumn is now in full swing in Hobbiton, and Bilbo decides it's time for another adventure, albeit a more relaxed and less dangerous one than their first!





	

**Author's Note:**

> A massive thank you and lots of hugs to the wonderful MistakenMagic for helping me with this fic, and beta-ing, and to the amazing Rutobuka for the gorgeous drawing! ♥
> 
> Hope you all like this lil fic of mine ♥  
> It was all planned during two walks in the forest :D haha
> 
> \- Winterfilth is the tenth month of the Shire calendar, equivalent to the 22nd September to 21st October in our calendar.

**The 8th Winterfilth, TA 2946**

 

The sun is rising over the rolling hills of the Shire, painting the sky in warm rosy hues, spilling its light in golden beams through the trees and over their path. Mist is floating lazily above the ground, like a smoke rising up through the trees, only adding to what Bilbo thinks the perfect autumn morning.

“Get your coat and shoes on,” he had told his husband earlier that morning. Thorin had frowned, an adorable confused expression, and then cocked an eyebrow at him. “Whatever for?” he had asked, “The market won’t be open for another couple hours.”

“We’re not going to the market.”

Bilbo hadn’t said more than that, only found his rucksack, poured the hot chocolate and re-heated mushroom soup he had made the evening before in his steel flasks, and pulled his then dressed and ready dwarf out the door.

 

The grass has grown long during the summer, the morning dew making Bilbo's calves and trousers damp as he walks through the grass. There’s a sweet scent in the air, of raspberries still clinging to their branches.

“Good thing no one scared you this time,” Thorin says, chuckling as they walk past the last bushes, and Bilbo laughs.

He and Thorin had walked past Mrs Rose Hayward’s raspberry bushes in the summer, and just as Bilbo was about to tell Thorin he would have to ask Mrs Rose if he could pick some, the old hobbit had jumped up from behind the bushes. “Hullo, Mister Bilbo, Mister Thorin,” she had exclaimed, and beamed at them.

  
It had taken Bilbo a moment to gather himself after being scared like that. But along with a warning and the story of how some of her cattle had disappeared during the night, and was the reason for her walk along the fences around her field, their walk had resulted in a few litres of fresh raspberries. And both Bilbo and Thorin had quite enjoyed the jam and tarts they had made that evening.

 

“So, where are we going exactly?” Thorin asks and stops.

The path has gone from being one, to three. The thick forest making each path look the same, and not giving the traveller any clues as to what’s further ahead.

“This way, love,” Bilbo says.

“How do you know where to go? There should’ve been a sign here.”

“I’ve walked here many times, and know these paths much thanks to my mother,” Bilbo says, walking past Thorin, straight ahead and onto the well-known path leading up a hill and to a place his mother used to take him as a child.

“Oh. And there is a sign,” he says, pointing at a worn, mossy sign lying on the ground between two of the paths. “I believe it took its time to lie down, it hasn’t been standing straight as long as I’ve lived. I think it’s been lying there the past 30 years or so.”

Thorin snorts at that, and Bilbo giggles.

Leaves and branches scatter to the ground as Thorin lifts up the sign. It almost falls apart in his hands, the wood rotten, and the signposts telling the way just barely hanging onto the pole with rusty nails. But he leans it against two trees standing close enough to hold it up nevertheless.

  
“Oh you,” Bilbo says fondly, grinning at his husband and taking his hand. “But Budgeford is to our right, not up here...”

  
And if Thorin will later deny having gone back to move the sign, then Bilbo won’t argue with him.

 

  
Hand in hand, they walk up the path, and Bilbo grins as the sun greets them at the top. Although the trees are a tad further apart from each other, the forest is still thick around them. But the sun shines more on this side of the hill so early in the day, and Bilbo smiles as he sees the stream where his mother used to take him.

  
His hold on Thorin’s hand tightens as they begin their walk away from the path and to the right of it, and down the hill. The rain last night has made the earth and grass wet and slippery, and Bilbo can feel it under his bare feet. And the roots and rocks sticking up here and there can make anyone hurt their feet, or stumble, and Bilbo says as much to Thorin.

“Says he who walks barefoot,” Thorin chuckles, “these boots, Bilbo...”

“Yes yes, I know. Proper Dwarven boots, warm and with a solid grip. You lot are like mountain goats! I’ve seen it myself, dear, you’ve crossed the misty mountains in those very boots. A very fine gift they were indeed.”

“Aye, my sister’s a good one,” Thorin says fondly, and smiles, “and mountain goats indeed! If any of us would fall, I dare say I think it would be you, my de-“

There’s a tug on Bilbo’s hand, and Thorin yelps as he slips and falls onto his back, and Bilbo’s laughter quickly turns to a squeal as he’s pulled down and on top of Thorin, making Thorin let out a small omph.

“Even mountain goats can fall, love,” Bilbo chuckles, his body moving up and down in the rhythm of Thorin’s laughter.

He gives his husband a kiss, planting his hands on Thorin’s chest as he does, and pushes himself up again. “And to fall when we’re almost at the bottom of the hill!” he exclaims with a bubbling laughter.

Grabbing his husband’s hand, Bilbo helps him up again.

“Are you alright?” he asks, “didn’t hurt yourself too badly, did you?”

There’s a couple of red maple leaves stuck to Thorin’s shoulder, as wells as a small stick and birch leaves in his hair. Bilbo plucks them away with nimble fingers, chuckling as he does when Thorin grunts at the sight of the leaves.

“A shame some rascal took my walking stick, we could’ve needed one today,” Bilbo says smirking.

He lets out a small squeal as Thorin grabs his waist with both hands, his husband chuckling as he pulls Bilbo close. Thorin’s smiling lips are warm and soft against his own, the beard soft and familiar yet a tickling sensation against his chin and nose, and Bilbo hums.

  
It’s been five years since they reclaimed Erebor, and three since Thorin let Fili take the throne so he and Bilbo could go back to the Shire. No one knows how long they’ll stay, or if they’ll ever go back, but right now they’re enjoying the peaceful life in Hobbiton. And while staying here, Thorin has let his beard grow; the dark, coarse hair is longer and softer, and made into a short braid. Bilbo thinks it very handy when he’s in dire need for a kiss, or when his husband won’t listen. And like many times before, he gives the braid a small tug, Thorin’s nose bumps against his own, and both grin before giving each other another sweet kiss.

“I’m sorry about your walking stick, my dear,” Thorin says, chuckling.

“Oh you know,” Bilbo huffs, “always fun to tease the poor old Mister Baggins, the adventurous hobbit who ran off and came back with a dwarf.”

“A dwarf!” he exclaims, his voice sounding like the scandalous hobbits that had been gossiping about them when they had returned.

Thinking back to their first months in Hobbiton together always makes them laugh, and today’s no exception. There’s still talk about them, but not nearly as much, most having gotten used to the eccentric Mister Baggins and his dwarf.

  
“I told you, you shouldn’t leave it outside,” Thorin says and Bilbo sighs. “But we can always find you a new one.” He saw the perfect stick just before grabbing hold of Bilbo, and so bends down to pick it up while mumbling he might have found one. But just as he does, Bilbo turns away from him, and his feet catch onto the stick, making him tumble forwards.

Thorin reaches out, but can only feel the fabric of Bilbo’s waistcoat slip through his fingers, before his husband falls onto his knees and hands.

“Thorin!” Bilbo pushes himself up quickly, brushing away dirt and dust from his knees as he does.

“What are you doing!?”

“I... I found you a new walking stick,” Thorin manages to say through his laughter, “I didn’t mean to make you fall!” He holds the stick out for Bilbo to see, his husband humming appreciatively as he inspects it.

“Well,” he says after a short silence, “it does look like a nice walking stick, why don’t you take it with you?”

 

“Is this where you were taking me?” Thorin asks, and takes Bilbo’s hand with his free one.

“Yes, yes it is. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

 Leaves crunch under their bare and booted feet as Bilbo leads Thorin closer to the bubbling stream running through the middle of the small open area, enclosed by the tall trees. Being early autumn, the grass and pine trees are still lush and green, the maple and birch around them now in vibrant red and orange hues.

Being a dwarf and growing up in Erebor and Ered Luin, one would think that despite the days spent on the road and in forests instead of a mountain, Thorin would prefer the latter. As much as he loves his mountain and stone, the nature surrounding Hobbiton has a different, relaxing feel to it. And the small adventures his husband drags him along on have only made him fonder of the forest.

By an old oak right by the stream, with long branches hanging over and almost into the water, Bilbo pulls out a dark brown blanket from his rucksack and unfolds it by the trunk. It’s with a small, content sigh he sits down with his back against the tree, and Thorin smiles as he sits down next to him.

Sliding his hand over the blanket towards Thorin, Bilbo takes his husband’s hand in his. Laying the entwined fingers in his lap, he strokes the tanned skin, and closes his eyes and lets his head fall against the tree.

Thorin has always looked good in his eyes, but it’s easy to see how much the success of reclaiming Erebor, and living in the Shire, has changed him. His shoulders and muscles aren’t tense and aching, nor does he frown much anymore, and his skin is tan and has a healthy glow to it after many days spent in the garden and on walks in Hobbiton. And by both the looks and feel of it, proper hobbit meals seven times a day has only done him good, and Bilbo must admit he’s proud and happy for the soft, lovely tummy Thorin has acquired.

  
Turning his head to the left, he opens his eyes to look at Thorin. _And his smile_ , he thinks as Thorin smiles back at him. _What a gorgeous smile_.

It quickly turns into a confused one, Thorin’s eyebrows drawing together as he wriggles his bum side to side. Bilbo chuckles at the sight, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sitting on...” Thorin squeezes Bilbo's hand as his other disappears under his bum, “something.”

“An acorn!” Bilbo laughs when he sees the small nut in Thorin’s palm. He snatches it from him, and puts it in his rucksack.

“Dear husband,” Bilbo says, and takes out one of the steel flasks from his rucksack, “would you like some food?”

Thorin only grins in response, making Bilbo laugh. “You’re easy to please.”

“Mm, and you know how to please me,” Thorin says, his voice low, and leans in for a kiss.

“Oh you,” Bilbo whispers, and grins.

 

With a big bowl of soup in his hands, Bilbo shuffles close to Thorin again, and sits back against the tree. Thorin’s body is warm and comfortable against his own, and Bilbo makes sure to sit as close to it as he can, making Thorin chuckle as Bilbo’s arm and thigh is pressed against his side.

  
The creamy soup warms his throat when he takes a spoonful, and he hums at the rich, autumnally taste. It reminds him of the soup his mother used to make every autumn, and the thought makes him smile. As soon as the autumn winds blew over Hobbiton and took the summer by surprise, making the leaves change colour and dance away, the evening grow darker, Belladonna would make a large batch of soup, and they would all sit huddled in front of the fireplace with a bowl in their hands while the wind howled outside.

“Amazing,” he can hear Thorin mumble. Both put their bowls to their lips, and drink the last of their soup with a slurp.

“As amazing as last year,” Thorin says and lets out a soft, content sigh, “I don’t think I can have another spoonful, no matter how much I’d like to.”

“I take it you’re finished then,” Bilbo chuckles, and takes the bowl from Thorin’s hands. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“Mhm, your mother would be proud, my dear.”

“Oh shush,” Bilbo mumbles, and Thorin smiles at the sight of Bilbo’s round cheeks going light pink.

 

**

 

They sit by the oak for quite some time, chatting and enjoying a mug of hot chocolate each. While the sun rises higher, lighting up the forest, and making parts of the stream look like molten gold.

Thorin takes off his boots, shuffles forward, and wiggles his toes as he dips his feet in the water. Gently moving his feet up and down, the water splashes around and over them, and Bilbo laughs at his husband.

Thorin moves his legs apart, and Bilbo sits down between them, back against Thorin’s chest. Reaching out and into the rucksack, he takes out two of the cinnamon rolls they made yesterday. Thorin smiles as Bilbo holds one up to his mouth, and takes a bite before taking it in his own hand.

Taking the last bite of his cinnamon roll, Thorin moans at the delicious mixture and flavour of butter, sugar, and cinnamon. He licks his fingers, puts his hand around Bilbo’s belly, and kisses his neck, “Thank you, dear.”

Bilbo shivers at the touch, and Thorin kisses him once more. “And thank you,” Bilbo says, and munches happily on his last bite, “you did help you know.”

“Mhm.”

“Now get your feet out of the water, dear husband, so you don’t get sick,” Bilbo says. He sits up on his knees, crawls over Thorin’s leg, and stares at him, his hands on his knees.

“Bilbo.” 

“ _Thorin_.”

They look at each other for a moment, Thorin moving his feet up and down, making the water splash loudly. Bilbo only cocks an eyebrow at him, and Thorin laughs as he takes his feet out of the water and shuffles back until his back is against the oak again. He had started to get quite cold, but there’s no reason to tell Bilbo that.

 Bilbo sits back down by Thorin, and lies down with his head in his husband’s lap.  
It’s much warmer out now than when they set out from Bag End, and Bilbo can’t help but smile at the feeling of the sun on his face. And when Thorin starts combing through his curls with his hand, it doesn’t take long before Bilbo’s fast asleep.

 

 

 

 

 

Grabbing the stick by his side in one hand, Thorin finds his knife in the rucksack with the other, and holding the stick by his right side and away from his husband, he begins to whittle away the bark. It’s a fine, sturdy stick, and with a little work, Thorin knows it’ll be the perfect walking stick for his husband.

Once the bark is gone, Thorin carves two oak leaves and acorns, as well as Bilbo’s initials, into the top of the stick. It will need to be sanded a bit, so Bilbo won’t get any splinters, but right now it’s –

“Perfect!”

Thorin jumps, and looks down at his lap: without him noticing, Bilbo has woken up and is now sitting next to him. He’s looking at Thorin with big, excited eyes, a smile on his lips.  
“Is it for me?”

“Yes, I said I’ll find and make you one, didn’t I?”

“It’s perfect!”

Bilbo throws his arms around Thorin’s shoulders, and gives him a kiss. “Thank you,” he says softly, and kisses him again, and Thorin grins, a small blush appearing on his cheeks of the praise.

 

It has gotten chilly while he slept, and Bilbo shivers when a gust of wind comes through the trees. Looking up, he sees grey skies roll in front of the sun.

“I think it may start to rain,” he says, as the forest grows darker. “What a shame, it’s been so lovely all day.”

“Maybe it’ll pass,” Thorin says. But just as the words leave his mouth, a few drops of rain land on their cheeks.

They both rise up from the blanket, Thorin groaning and both of their knees creaking as they do, and Bilbo laughs. He folds the blanket and puts it back in the rucksack, and puts it on.

“Maybe you should take the stick until we’re on the other side of that hill,” he says and smirks as he nods towards the hill Thorin fell down, “then I’ll take it the rest of the way home.”

Thorin’s stare isn’t the friendliest one, but it only takes a smile from Bilbo before the dwarf laughs and takes his husband’s hand, the stick in the other.

 

It doesn’t take long before the rolling hills and round doors to their own and neighbours smials are in sight, but the skies have apparently waited long enough and just as they pass the first smial and begin their walk up the road to Bag End, the rain starts pouring down.

There are a few squeaks from surprised hobbits running back to their smial, and Bilbo laughs at the sight of both hobbits and sheep running back and forth, clothes being pulled down from where they were drying in the sun just moments ago and are now flying in the wind.

Their holds on the other’s hand tightens, and without a word, both Bilbo and Thorin begin to run up the last of the path, and through the gates of Bag End.

They throw the door open just as thunder roars in the distance, and the laughter is loud as Bilbo and Thorin run through, and into the hall.

 Grabbing his husband by the waist, Thorin pulls him close. He kisses the wet curls, and Bilbo snuggles against his chest. Holding onto each other, they make their way to the bathroom, their feet leaving wet trails.

 

**

 

Dressed in dry and warm trousers and tunics, Bilbo and Thorin settle down on two large pillows by the now burning fire. While Bilbo had made hot chocolate, Thorin had made sure to get Bag End warmed up by lighting the fire and all the candles that he could find in their parlour.

  
Taking a careful sip of his chocolate, Thorin enjoys the feeling of the hot drink warming his belly. He has always loved Bilbo’s hot chocolate, a lovely chocolaty drink with a dollop of whipped cream and sprinkle of cinnamon, and he had once tried to make some himself to surprise his husband. But the drink had gotten burnt and bitter, so now he is quite content with only helping Bilbo in the kitchen, and not experimenting on his own.

“Thank you for a lovely day.” Bilbo wraps his blanket tighter around himself, and snuggles closer to Thorin. “And thank you for the walking stick.”

“And thank you, for everything, my wonderful husband.”

“Oh, you sap,” Bilbo says, chuckling.

His curls are soft against Thorin’s nose and lips, and he kisses the golden strands as he wraps his arm around his husband.

“What did you put on the mantle earlier?” he mumbles into Bilbo’s hair.

“The acorn,” Bilbo says and takes a sip of his drink. And looking up, Thorin can see a handful of acorns around the framed drawing of them done by Ori during their wedding feast back in Erebor.

  
He smiles, and puts their empty cups down by the fireplace. Wrapping his other now free hand around Bilbo, Thorin pulls him with him as he lies down on the pillows.

  
“I love you,” he whispers against Bilbo's lips.

“And I love you,” Bilbo whispers back with a smile, kisses his husband, and snuggles close against his chest as he yawns.

**Author's Note:**

> Again, a big thank you to MistakenMagic and Rutobuka for beta-ing and drawing last night.  
> I was just a big ball of happiness, and I am so happy and grateful for what you've done for me! ♥ 
> 
> Here's the tumblr post for this fic;  
> http://gaaladrieel.tumblr.com/post/151517367875/commissioned-this-absolutely-wonderful-piece-by 
> 
> And yes, I see all your lovely tags hihi ♥
> 
> Fun facts about the name for the hobbit that jumps up behind the raspberry bushes: 
> 
> Her last name's Hayward because;  
> "Hobbits of the East farthing. The name means 'fence-guard' and refers to an occupation of inspecting fences and assuring that cattle do not stray. The name 'Hayward' may also have its origins in the title of the officers who were responsible for overseeing the harvesting of crops on Medieval manors."
> 
> Because they're walking in the East Farthing, and it just fit the hobbit I had in my head, and I added the thing with the cows after reading this, so it gave her a reason to pop up out of nowhere.
> 
> I've named her Rose because raspberries are in the rose family. And;  
> "Rubus idaeus (raspberry, also called red raspberry or occasionally as European raspberry to distinguish it from other raspberries) is a red-fruited species of Rubus native to Europe and northern Asia [...] The species name idaeus refers to its occurrence on Mount Ida near Troy in northwest Turkey"
> 
> I'm... You see.. My name's Ida, and I'm from Norway so I'm European. 
> 
> wehey! Imma stop now. 
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING <3  
> I hope you liked it, kudos and comments are always welcome and much appreciated <3


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